


Cloudes threaten but a shower

by phantomlistener



Category: Green Knowe Series - Lucy M. Boston
Genre: Boxing Day, Gen, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22067353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomlistener/pseuds/phantomlistener
Summary: On Boxing Day morning Tolly awakes fearing the magic has disappeared, and along with it his newfound friends.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8
Collections: New Year's Resolutions 2020





	Cloudes threaten but a shower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silveronthetree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveronthetree/gifts).



> Title from _O Eyes leaue off your weeping_ by Robert Dowland (1610), which the children of Green Knowe may well have known.
> 
> This was supposed to be a Yuletide treat but I ran out of time - silveronthetree, you wondered about a missing scene from the books, so this is set on Boxing Day after _The Children of Green Knowe_ finishes.

Tolly woke on Boxing Day half-expecting the magic to have disappeared along with Christmas.

He threw off the covers with a feeling of trepidation and reached under his pillow for the carved wooden mouse. It was warm – but what, he thought, if that was just from being hidden safely in the warmth of his bed all night? His eyes went worriedly to the sword resting against the chair at the foot of his bed. It had cleaned up nicely, and the blade shone out from the top of its jeweled scabbard. He could already imagine playing with it in the summer, fighting imaginary foes in and out of the trees. Perhaps he could even spar with Toby. But when he reached out to touch the pommel, there was no tingle of excitement, no whisper of young voices from the corridor outside. No _them_.

In a whirl of grief and fear he ran down the stairs in his blue striped pyjamas, the polished oak floor smooth and cool under his bare feet. “Granny, Granny,” he cried, rushing into the kitchen. “Have you seen them?”

“Not this morning,” said Mrs Oldknow, turning from the kitchen table where she was rolling pastry. Tolly could smell apple and spices, and his mouth watered. “But they have their own ways, Tolly, you know that.”

“But-” said Tolly, and burst into tears.

Mrs Oldknow brushed the flour from her wrinkled hands and wiped them on the blue gingham half-apron she wore over her black skirt. “Don’t worry,” she said, encouraging him closer until he was near enough to have his hair ruffled affectionately. “Remember before, when they were shy of you and wouldn’t play? They soon came back, and now you have gained their trust too."

Tolly clung with one hand to the edge of her apron, which was soft and worn in his grasp. It was enough to know that he could, if he wanted, put his arms around her and be comforted. He stared resolutely at the ground, the kitchen flagstones wavering and distorting through his tears, and asked in a small voice, “What if it was just Christmas?”.

“Oh Tolly.” A soft hand, still lightly dusted with flour, tilted his tear-streaked face up until he met her eyes. “I’ve been here for many more years than you can even imagine, my dear, and they have never simply disappeared. They can be playful, or bad-tempered, but wherever they go to hide or sulk they always, always return.” She smiled at him, and he realised that the wrinkles around her eyes and on her cheeks were the records of hundreds and thousands of similar smiles. “They are part of this house, not tied to the seasons.”

“And….” Tolly felt a little better, and tried to say what he meant. “And this house is…well, it’s sort of mine as well, isn’t it?”

“It is,” said his grandmother, understanding. “They’re tied to you and I as well, in a different way.”

Relief descended over him like a wave crashing ashore right over his head. He wiped at the last of his tears and sniffed. “Could we feed the birds?” he ventured.

“I must get this pie in the oven first,” she replied, but it was said so warmly that Tolly did not feel he was being put off, and instead ran upstairs to get dressed. He chose his thickest wool socks and a warm jumper to go over his trousers, and by the time he got back downstairs Mrs Oldknow was waiting at the back door with a paper bag full of breadcrumbs and a little margarine on a butter knife.

“They shall have one last treat,” she said, spreading the margarine over, under, and between Tolly’s fingers. “After all, on Boxing Day one is supposed to give gifts in thanks for good service throughout the year, and they certainly have chirped and sung with great humour all year long.” She gave him another smile, and he could see Linnet in her eyes. “Go on.”

Tolly held out his hand and his grandmother whistled softly, and then all of a sudden a whole flock of birds descended around him, wings flapping so frantically as they jostled for space that he was forced to turn his face away as they pecked excitedly at the rich margarine spread across his hand. He laughed helplessly at the soft nips and the brush of feathers, just as unbearably ticklish as the day before, but forced himself to remain still as they feasted.

His grandmother was laughing as well, her lined face beaming, and then faintly in the distance Tolly heard a peal of delighted laughter, high and musical and unmistakable. His face lit up and he forgot all about the tickle of beaks and feet and feathers in the sheer joy of it.

“Granny!” he exclaimed. The remaining birds shot off, startled at the sound. “Can you hear that? It’s her, it’s Linnet, she isn’t gone at all!”

“None of them are,” said Mrs Oldknow, infinitely wise. “It’s like I said: they’re always here, in one way or another, and they always will be.”

Tolly stared down the path, willing her to appear. It was still white with frost under the trees where the winter sun hadn’t reached, and he just knew that out in the garden the underbellies of the topiary animals would be touched with white as well, a glittering secret from the world. And suddenly, with certainty, he knew as well that Toby, Alexander, and Linnet were out there too, just beyond where he could see, and it was enough to know that they were together always.

“See?” said his grandmother. “Now come and wash your hands. There’ll be apple pie for elevenses, which means there’s just time for you to go out and play for a while.”

Tolly considered the idea. The crisp frost was just begging for him to run through it in his wellington boots. Maybe he’d take the sword, and maybe Toby would appear to spar with him. Or maybe he wouldn’t.

Either way, he realised, he was happy. 


End file.
